


I Have Only But A Million Blemishes To Tell You All About

by LightningLemonade



Series: A Mathematician With A Microphone [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blatant implication of Stacker Pentacost/Tendo Choi/Hercules Hansen triad marriage, Brief mentions of Raleigh and Mako, Cambridge UK, Cambridge University - Freeform, Canon Disabled Character, Drift memories, F/F, Hannibal totally has a soft spot for Newt, Housemates in Cambridge, M/M, Newt experiences Hermann's dysphoria, Post-Movie, TW: past memories of gender dysphoria, TransMale!Hermann, Unrequited love (or so they think), miscommunicative idiot german scientists, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningLemonade/pseuds/LightningLemonade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months after the Breach is sealed, Hermann and Newt are living in Cambridge, UK.</p><p>It's said when you drift with someone, you feel like there's nothing to talk about. In the case of some pairs, you have everything to talk about. With these two, the small matter of a Kaiju Hivemind scrambled the usual way the Drift works.</p><p>Now, Newt's suffering through Hermann's worst memories, while Hermann can't access the part of his mind that's all Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Have Only But A Million Blemishes To Tell You All About

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the sequel no one expected, least of all me. Badass singer transmale Hermann is far too much fun to write. As is Newmann, so yeah...
> 
> Trigger/Content warning! There's a lot of dysphoric memories from the perspective of a pre-transition female-to-male transgender person, dysphoria experienced by a cisgender person via the Drift, possibly some transphobia.
> 
> Possible homophobia and ableism (internalised or otherwise) in later chapters.
> 
> ...This fic ain't entirely cheery, probably a bit of an angst-fest, but there will be a happy end. 
> 
> Fear not, the first chapter's easy. Domestic friendship fluff. :>
> 
> Fic title's a line from The Mars Volta's Tetragrammaton.

Living together with his lab partner of five years and friend of over ten years was not a future Hermann Gottlieb ever thought about. But then, he also wouldn't have thought about Drifting with the reckless idiot and an infant Kaiju.

Contact with the chaotic mind of Newton Geiszler had some interesting consequences - Hermann couldn't be sure all decisions since were due to post-Drift effects or the release of twelve years of stress. Probably a combination of the two.

It's five months after the success of Operation Pitfall. Hermann and Newt have recently finished a world lecture tour and are re-settling in their shared house in Cambridge, England. (There were a lot of fights over where to live. Hermann won via a coin flip. Newt's still a little pissed about that.)

Their friendship changed, after the Drift. They moved from "Frenemies" to "slightly co-dependent actual friends". Living apart didn't really strike them as possible at this point - all the years of working together, collapsing in the lab together, relying on the other to remind them to eat or take medication...combine it with the fact they were now Drift partners, being seperate wasn't a notion either liked.

The house they share is in one of the villages outside Cambridge, a tiny collection of houses named Bottisham. The place is called Domino Cottage and it's best described as "quaint". (Though Newt uses the word "creaky" often.) A tiny two bedroomed detached house, with the front door leading into the kitchen makes it quintessentially English.

The water pipes sound like a dying whale, there's a small hole in the floor of one of the bedrooms that gives you a view of the living room and the floorboards are visibly warped, but it's homely, crammed with their books, musical gear and trinkets from around the world.

There's one thing that Newt can't get used to - Hermann Gottlieb wearing casual clothing. In the five years of working together, Newt had never seen Hermann wear anything other than baggy, ill-fitting suits and sweater vests.

Recently though, Hermann's been wearing things that are casual. Bordering on fashionable, even. The maths nerd still wears sweater vests with most of these outfits though.

Today, while they're unpacking and enjoying their few days off before going back to teaching at Cambridge University, Hermann's puttering about the house in light baggy jeans, button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and a freaking waistcoat, humming snippets of whatever he's listening to.

Newt, in contrast, has thrown on an ancient threadbare Godzilla t-shirt and what he thinks are PPDC-issued cadet uniform trousers. How he still has them, he's not entirely sure.

They take a break, make some tea and coffee (Earl Grey for Hermann, some gingerbread-blend coffee for Newt) and sit together at the kitchen table. Hermann's leg is up on a spare chair while he sips his tea. 

"Why do you wear sweater vests all the time, dude?" Newt blurts out into the silence. Hermann quirks an eyebrow.

"I'm not right now. Anyway, didn't you pick up on that from the Drift?"

"If I did, I forgot. Or it's stashed away somewhere in that bit of my brain you live in. I mean, I guess some of it must be to do with you being, uh, trans? Like, it hides stuff. But you don't have stuff to hide there now. I mean, you got surgery to get rid of the chest, like, ages ago. So uh, why do you keep with it? You look better in this sort of gear, the well fitting stuff." Newt's arms are getting more expressive as he continues talking, nearly knocking his mug off the table in the process.

Hermann leans back in his chair and sips his tea, a ponderous look on his face. Placing the cup back down, he starts slowly. "You're right Newt, the reason I started wearing the sweater vests and the, as I remember you putting it one time the 'stuffy professor' look was to hide certain aspects of my body. It felt wrong to change it after I recovered from surgery, then I had to keep up some form of warm professional attire during the war. Once the cane became a permanent feature, well. There seemed no reason to look 'trendy'. Plus when we shared a lab, having several layers was a necessity just to have some extra protection for any stray corrosive extraterrestrial substances." 

"Hey, that happened only a few times!" Newt squawked indignantly.

"A few times too many. I believe you still owe me two jackets and a new pair of trousers." Hermann mutters indignantly.

"Yeah yeah, I'll get you some new threads. Actually, yeah, I will. Not today, but we'll go clothes shopping and I will buy you some decent fitting clothes for once in your goddamn life!" Newt proclaimed, ending his sentence with a dramatic point at Hermann.

The elder of the two scientists looked slightly bewildered, then smiled. "All right Newt. I'll let you do this. Just please, no skinny jeans. I'd never be able to get them on."

"Sure thing, dude."

"Do not tell my sisters you're doing this, either, they'll want to come along."

"...So I shouldn't have just texted Karla asking what she thinks about a joint shopping trip in London?"

Hermann groaned.


	2. The Questions Run Too Deep For Such A Simple Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt's starting to get Hermann's memories left behind from the Drift, discovers what gender-related dysphoria can feel like first hand and Hermann struggles with the concept of being perceived as attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Mindless Self Indulgence - The Logical Song (which is such a Hermann song)
> 
> Content warning for female-to-male dysphoria abound and vague allusions to transphobia.

Insomnia was a major problem for Newt. Always had been. His brain's not the type to settle down easily, which is great on a deadline or working on the front lines between humanity and apocalypse at the claws of giant monsters from an interdimensional breach but now? When he's in quiet England, with a regular hours teaching job and living with his friend-slash-drift-partner-slash-colleague-slash-something, who's making stupidly cute snoring noises that Newt may be listening out for, but y'know, no one needs to know - okay, not being able to sleep is the worst. 

Newt looked over at his phone and groaned quietly at the time - 3AM. He's gotta be up for work in 5 hours. He rolls out of bed and heads down to their kitchen, in the vague hope that hot chocolate may help slow his overactive mind. If not, well, hot chocolate is pretty nice any time of the day. 

He sits, cross-legged on one of the kitchen chairs with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him. Newt absent-mindedly stirs it, his thoughts elsewhere. In a different mind, even. It's been nearly six months since he and Hermann drifted with each other and the baby Kaiju and he's still not sorted out all the memories left behind. The small part of Hermann stuck with him is a cordoned off area of his mind, which frustrates Newt to no end.

He saw a few things in the drift - tiny bits of Hermann's youth, the connection he has with music and numbers, the terrible relationship with his parents and the strong bond with his sisters and younger brother. Newt's met Karla and Vanessa, likes them both a lot. They live in London and the pair visit often. Newt would never admit it, but he's pretty glad he lost the coin toss - if just so Hermann could stay near his family again. 

Out of nowhere, Newt is hit with a memory - one of Hermann's childhood. He's fourteen and freaking out, wailing at Vanessa that he's dying, this is the worst feeling in the world. A hot water bottle is pressed to his abdomen, a gangly teenage Vanessa is in school uniform and rubbing his back, murmuring comforting platitudes. His stomach feels like it's turned inside out, scrunched up into a knot and pulsing in agony. Though it can't be that, it's too low down. Kind of behind his bladder. Kind of... _oh god._

Now Newton's fully aware of what menstrual cramps feel like and that's absolutely unsettling. But it's not just the cramps, it's the residual feeling of _this is wrong, this shouldn't be happening to me, why is this happening to me, make it stop_ that's come along with it which make Newt nauseous in a few seconds. 

So much for trying to sleep, now he's got to try not throwing up. Eventually he slumps forward onto the table and falls into a fitful doze, which he is awoken from by the wafting smell of percolating coffee and fresh toast.

"Ah, good morning Newton. I tried shaking you awake with no success. How did you end up sleeping there?" Hermann inquires, teacup in hand and an amused twinkle in his eyes. Newt pushes himself up, rubs his face and blinks blearily at the overly-damn-perky-for-this-time-in-the-morning mathematician.

"I couldn't sleep earlier. Tried hot chocolate. It sorta worked, I guess?" Newt mumbles. The memory that isn't his is patchy, the cramps dying down but the notion that his body is wrong flutters around his stomach.

Hermann takes pity on him and plonks a full mug of very strong coffee in front of the sleepy biologist. "Drink this. Make some form of breakfast. I'll drive us to work." and Hermann retreats with his tea in the direction of their shared library, humming what sounded suspiciously like _Sweet Child o' Mine_.

Still not used to casual, musical as hell Hermann. Newt downs half the mug of coffee before stumbling off to get ready for the day.

In work, all day, Newt has to actively suppress the feelings he got from Hermann's memory. It varies from disassociation to near hysterical panic - which feels not too dissimilar to his anxiety issues, but he knows it's not due to his own mental health. It all stems from the dull ache where a uterus should or shouldn't be and the feeling there are unnatural chemicals flowing around his bloodstream, changing him in ways that don't make sense.

_I gotta hug Hermann tonight because this is fucking horrendous._

That night Newt wondered if there was a technique to suppress memories left behind from the drift. Not that he didn't want to know more about Hermann, but having to go through something like that again did not appeal in the slightest.

The ache had faded down to tiny twinges of pain across his abdomen, the panic of having the wrong parts had mostly gone, replaced instead by anxiety over when another of Hermann's memories may pop up and fuck up his head for the day.

Hermann was also in a weird mood. He looked somewhere between startled and confused - a state Newt was pretty damn familiar with after several years of reckless science that should maybe have got him killed a few times, but actually worked damn well thank you very much. There was something else - a nervous, unsure smile and a scrap of paper being rotated around his fingers.

"Whatcha got there, Hermann?" Newt asked after a few seconds of watching the mathematician do nothing but fiddle with paper.

Hermann jerked up suddenly, just like he used to when Newt had to remind him of meetings in the PPDC and he was deep in calculations or programming. "Um."

Newt quirks an eyebrow. "Whoa there, Doctor Eloquent. Don't blow me away with your words."

The biologist swears he heard a muttering of "oh piss off" before his friend cleared his throat and placed both hands on his cane. "If you must know Newt, I, er, I got asked out. For-for a date. With someone."

Newt felt his heart drop, but he chose to ignore it for now. "That's fuckin' excellent dude, with who? Do I know them? Where are you going? Do I need to clear out of the house when you've got a tie on the door, if you catch my meaning?" and nudges Hermann with his elbow on the last sentence, who flushes a brilliant bright pink and lets out an undignified squeak.

It's the cutest thing Newt's ever heard, if he's being honest.

"Erm...I don't know if you know them, but it's one of the younger History lecturers. I met him before, when we were both studying here. We're...I forget where it is, we're going to a pub in town called the Devonshire Arms on the weekend and um...I do-don't know about the last bit." Hermann's voice gets quieter as he talks, fading into a soft murmur which Newt can barely pick up on. 

"Well, I'm damn pleased for you, dude."

"Th-thank you, Newt." Hermann's smiling, soft and gorgeous and stop that train of thought right there, Newton Geizsler, this is the way madness lies. 

Though he can't deny he's halfway there anyway.

-_-_-_-

When Hermann woke up this morning, he could safely define two things. One: during the drift with Newton, he understood very little of the vague memories he got from the smaller man. He understood even less from the Kaiju hivemind, after the breach was shut. Two: No one was interested in him in a romantic sense, in a way that was healthy.

These were facts of his life he was suited to, it made life simpler. Of course he had...desires of a carnal nature and a desire for intimacy, but Hermann Gottlieb had realised long ago that finding someone he liked, was able to keep up with him mentally AND would be able to understand his limitations was an equation with no solution. Or an if statement no one would pass. Friendship was much easier. Living with Newton was a decent balm to his unrequited crush on the tattooed biologist. It would do.

After his usual morning routine of getting up as fast as his leg would allow, showering while listening to whatever his music player decided to give him (he wasn't sure what it was, but heavy and instrumental was all he could pick up over the water) and dressing for work - today's choice was well fitting black chinos and a navy shirt, teamed up with a soft plain grey sweater vest. All courtesy of a shopping trip a few days ago with Newton, Vanessa and Karla.

Hermann was loath to admit it, but those three were pretty good at finding clothes that fit with his tastes and his body. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his cane and headed down to make breakfast. With any luck, he'll get a sighting of a shirtless sleepy Newt, too oblivious to pay attention to any stares Hermann just might be giving his younger friend.

...He needed a new hobby. Maybe a new band? It's acceptable for thirty-six, bordering on thirty-seven year old mathematicians to frontline metal bands, right? 

To his delight and mild amusement, he found Newt slumped on the kitchen table next to a mug of what was once hot chocolate, in nothing but boxers and a frayed t shirt, which was riding up to show off part of Gipsy Danger on his back.

Hermann gently shook Newt's shoulder in an attempt to waken him. All he got in response was an incomprehensible (but adorable) mumble. Hermann changed tactic and turned on the coffee machine while he made himself tea. 

The smell of Earl Grey and strong coffee filled the small kitchen, soon joined by the fresh scent of toast lured Newt into the realm of conciousness fully. He looked up, an expression of bleary discomfort and bewilderment on his face. Hermann's heart fluttered, just a bit.

"Ah, good morning Newton. I tried shaking you awake with no success. How did you end up sleeping there?" Hermann managed to say all that and not stutter over his beautiful friend's face.

 _Oh fucking hell, then he bloody stretches. For once, thank god I don't have a noticeable cock. Constant hard ons would not be...they_ aren't _comfortable._

"I couldn't sleep earlier. Tried hot chocolate. It sorta worked, I guess?" Newt mumbled and yawned, melting Hermann's heart a little more. 

Hermann placed a fresh mug of the coffee he'd had brewing on the table, told Newt to drink it and make breakfast before escaping to their shared library with his tea. 

As he searched for a book that someone in the department had requested to borrow, he realised he was humming a rendition of _Sweet Child o' Mine_. One of the many music library crossovers that Newton liked more than he did and he ended up learning anyway.

God, he was in deep.

Today was busy - Tuesdays were the days he lectured a module that was taken by the entire physics department and a good portion of mathematics students as well.

In front of a room designed to seat three hundred, crammed to the brim of what Hermann suspected were people from unrelated departments and a small gathering of staff members - he gave his lecture on the practical application and real world instances of Einstein-Rosen bridges.

He is not as wildly expressive as Newton is, despite certain Newtonian traits being left behind in the drift. He used his cane to gesture at notable points on his slides, he spoke firmly and clearly and he used a massive projection of a model of the Breach - a three-dimensional holographic representation in bold colours, blown up large enough to be seen from anywhere in the room.

At the end of his lecture, a small stream of students approached with questions, which he answered where possible. So much of the PPDC's documentation was under NDA or strictly classified that most of the data on the Breach activity couldn't be spoken about for the next five years. Hermann was lucky to be allowed to show them his model of the breach - the same one he showed Pentacost before Operation Pitfall.

Eventually, the room emptied until there was only Hermann and a member of staff he vaguely recognised. A man slightly taller than himself, only a couple of years younger, with long thick black hair tied back into a low ponytail, thin square wire-framed glasses, wearing dark jeans and a grey suit jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The t shirt underneath declared "If anyone Khan, Genghis Khan". Hermann squinted, trying to place the name of the other occupant.

"Hermann Gottlieb, you don't remember me, do you?! I'm offended!"

The spark of remembrance hit Hermann, the voice was familiar - Cambridge accent, somewhat posh but with a large element of playful sarcasm. Then he knew, letting a smirk spread across his face.

"Elliot Matthews, it's been a long time. Surely you can forgive my terrible memory, I've been stopping giant extraterrestrial beings for the last few years."

Elliot laughed loudly, a kind of smooth cackle one might expect from a Bond villain, but tempered with genuine humour. "Much appreciated, my friend! I've recently come back from my sabbatical - I work here now, I lecture on Military and Political History. Imagine my surprise when I hear you're back too! There's also rumour the famous Dr Geiszler works here now as well, teaching a module on xenobiology?"

Hermann nods. "Yes, Newt-I mean, Dr Geiszler works here. We, ah, felt it easier to continue working for the same establishment even after the war." Elliot nods, his expression slightly distant. It's a momentary look - he snaps back to look at Hermann, smiling broadly. "Anyway, I hoped to drag you out for lunch, should you have the time. As you said yourself, it's been a long time."

"All right Elliot, do you have a place in mind?" Hermann finishes gathering up his lecture materials and stuffing them into his leather satchel before picking it and his cane up. To his credit, if there is any surprise over the cane, Elliot doesn't let it show on his face.

"The Rainbow Café is still open, I seem to remember you liked that place."

"Excellent, I haven't had the chance to check if it was still around."

Thankfully, The Rainbow Café was a short walk from the building Hermann had been lecturing in - over the road from a cluster of the main university buildings. Cambridge was full of old buildings and sympathetic architecture, leading the place to look eternally elegant.

The two men went down a tiny alleyway leading to an open, sun dappled courtyard filled with country-style tables and a few diners. It was early in the typical lunch rush hour, which meant they could get a table rather easily. 

They share a pot of Earl Grey before ordering their meal, chatting about Hermann's work mostly. Elliot brings up occasional stories of their antics in the university rock group, which make Hermann laugh out loud. 

The pair linger over a second pot of tea with dessert, enjoying the late spring sunshine. They talk about Elliot's new students, Hermann's lecture & press tour with Newton and the other significant members of the PPDC (some of the stories of Newt's capers have Elliot doubled over in helpless laughter), music and personal lives.

"It's still a massive culture shock going from paramilitary back to civilian life." Hermann explains while stirring some sugar into his tea. "Outside the Pan-Pacific Defence Corps, I've not had the chance to make many friends over the last ten years. Christ, I don't think I've even had a date since leaving Cambridge."

Elliot clears his throat. "Well, let me correct this."

"Wh-what?" Hermann stutters out.

"Hermann, will you go on a date with me?" Elliot asks, his fingers brushing Hermann's hand resting on the table. The touch is soft and Hermann's brain blanks out for a second. The image of Newt pops up, unbidden but ever present, as does the feeling of his attraction to his long-time co-worker being very one-sided. Indignation rises up to meet it, like a Kaiju emerging from the Breach.

_Bollocks to it._

"Yes. Yes I will, Elliot." Hermann's fingers find Elliot's and fumble for a moment, before linking their hands together. Elliot's answering grin is like the sun coming up. He pulls out a scrap of paper and scribbles out two lines.

"Here's my phone number and my personal email address." He slides the paper over to Hermann, who's frantically digging around in his satchel and pockets for pen and spare paper.

After a few moments of scrabbling, Hermann finds appropriate writing materials, hastily writes out his own contact details and hands them over to Elliot. Their fingers brush again, the touch and reaction making the mathematician's ears pink. 

"Ah, um, I have to g-get back to my office, I have a meeting with a prospective student who wants me to be their supervisor..." Hermann trails off awkwardly.

"Sure, of course! I didn't even realise it had got that late. Tempus fugit!" Elliot gets out of his seat and offers his hand to Hermann, who takes it when he rises from his own seat, bag slung over one shoulder and cane in the other hand.

They pay - "Separately this time, Elliot. I insist." and walk back towards the Mathematics and Physics department, close but not enough to touch beyond brushes of the hands. Hermann doesn't think he could cope with much more, a bubbling euphoria threatening to explode forth in reaction to contact he's very unused to but heavily craving. 

Sooner than he would like, the pair are stood outside Hermann's office. Elliot leans down to kiss Hermann on the cheek. "I'll talk to you soon. Keep the weekend free." And he walks off, leaving Hermann stunned for the second time that day, his fingertips brushing the place where Elliot's lips had been mere seconds ago.

The strong blush to his cheeks took a while to subside. 

Throughout the rest of the day, Hermann has a lot of trouble focusing on work. The poor student who enquired about supervision for a research project had to repeat what she said several times, frustrating both herself and Hermann. He keeps reading the same sentences over and over again, not comprehending what's on the screen or paper. Thankfully he doesn't have to do any more lectures that day, but he does zone out in a departmental meeting with the dean.

He texts Elliot after the meeting, hands trembling slightly as he enters the number.

_Elliot, Hermann here. Where do you have in mind for this weekend?_

A few minutes later, his phone beeps to alert him of a new message.

_I was thinking of the Devonshire Arms on Sunday, it's a nice quiet pub. You up for that?_

He taps out a response as fast as he can.

_Sure. Let me know further details closer to the time._

Another beep, another message.

_Of course. Enjoy the rest of your day. xx_

His face is flaming.

Hermann's skin still tingled where Elliot had touched even while Newt drove them back home, the car stereo tuned to the local radio station and pouring out nineties pop music, punctuated by an overly excitable host and occasional traffic reports. 

He's holding the paper with Elliot's contact details when Newt asks what the hell's up. Or what he's holding. Hermann's not sure, so all that comes out as a response is a mere "Um."

"Whoa there, Doctor Eloquent. Don't blow me away with your words." Newt's eyebrow was up in that infuriatingly adorable manner, hands up and a lopsided grin plastered on his face. _Handsome bastard._

Hermann gripped his cane for support, emotionally and physically. "If you must know Newt, I, er, I got asked out. For-for a date. With someone." He stammered out.

"That's fuckin' excellent dude!" Newt crows. "With who? Do I know them? Where are you going? Do I need to clear out of the house when you've got a tie on the door, if you catch my meaning?" Hermann can feel his face getting redder with every word tumbling out of Newton's mouth. When Newt nudges him knowingly at the end of his speech, Hermann squeaks involuntarily - half embarrassment, half because Newt caught a ticklish point of his side.

He mumbled some answers to Newt's questions, getting quieter as he got towards the clear reference to sexual activity in the last one. He'd not thought about that bit. He'd not done much of such a nature for a while. A couple of very drunk flings with Tendo Choi early on during the war, which were delicately left unmentioned by either party and that's been it since Cambridge. He'll think about this more another time.

"Well, I'm damn pleased for you, dude." Newt smiles, heartfelt and genuinely happy. Hermann's heart flutters at that sight.

"Th-thank you, Newt." He smiles in response.

Hermann goes to bed that night knowing only one thing for certain - that he still doesn't understand the part of his mind that Newton now resides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rainbow Cafe and the Devonshire Arms both exist, are both fantastic, highly recommend you visit both if you ever go to Cambridge.


	3. You Take The Breath Right Out Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt discovers a name he doesn't recognize but has a horrible association with. Hermann really does struggle with human interaction of the romantic kind.
> 
> Warning for brief mention of a transgender person's birth name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Breaking Benjamin - Breath

Newt's in the middle of setting up slide samples when he gets hit with a memory of someone calling out "Luise!". He wants to respond with "Do not call me that, call me Gottlieb if you must." until he realises who he is. He's Newt, not Hermann.

And suddenly he hates the name Luise with all he is and all that Hermann left with him.

The lab is empty - his masters students left early to start the weekend. He can't really blame them, it's late Friday afternoon. Newt sets down the petri dish and his glasses, tears that aren't really his own trickling down his face. Well, they are his tears, just...caused by Hermann's memories.

Knowing your best-friend-slash-housemate-slash-crush is transgender, and actually experiencing it through their memories are completely different things. It's only been a few days since he discovered what having a uterus felt like and he's barely recovered from that. 

He's pretty sure he's going to break under the emotional weight, it's too much for one person to handle the pain of two like this. He doesn't want to talk to Hermann about them - sure, they're the maths nerd's memories but that doesn't mean making him relive them is a great idea.

Newt scoots over to a nearby workstation and looks up therapists and psychologists who specialise in Drift partners. He also shoots off an email to Tendo Choi - the LOCCENT commander was an experienced Drift tech as well as a good friend. Newt thought it was worth a shot to ask him what to do about this memory influx.

Twenty minutes later, his phone rings - an unknown number, but looks like it's from Hong Kong. Newt answers it.

"Hello?"

"Guten Tag, Bio-boy!" Newt grins.

"Tendo, dude! You didn't have to call!"

"Course I did. You've got a problem and I've got the boredom of keeping one eye on the Breach. C'mon, tell ol'uncle Tendo your worries."

Newt cackles. "Damn man, you could have taken a better job y'know. Anyway, so it's like this..."

After some vague explanations of Hermann's memories halted by Tendo cutting through with a "I know Hermann's transgender, don't ask me how.", Newt explains properly what he's been experiencing. Tendo's mostly silent during this, scribbling down notes and occasionally excusing himself to yell at someone else in Cantonese to do...Newt isn't sure, his Cantonese is awful and comprises of swearwords and saying that he doesn't speak Cantonese. Real damn useful.

"I don't get exactly why you're having a delayed memory influx, but I'm going to blame the Kaiju for that. Massive unknown factor may have screwed up the way the drift usually works. And you drifted with one on your own about 24 hours previously. I'm surprised your brain held together, brother."

"Yeah yeah, we know I did dangerous shit in the name of the world and science."

Tendo sends him a small collection of PPDC-recommended drift partner exercises - "You're going to have to do most of these with Hermann. There is no way around that, Newt." - a link to meditation techniques and the contact details of the PPDC's psychiatrist, Dr Madeline Drew.

"She'll do long-distance sessions on Skype. Raleigh and Mako take advantage of that, you probably should too, brother."

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe. I don't know."

"Newt, you've had two incidents. You, for some dumb reason, won't talk to your drift partner about it and it's only going to get worse. From what you've said, anyway." Tendo huffs out of aggravation, turning to static down the line into Newt's ear.

"I'll think about it, okay dude? I don't wanna drag up all the shit memories for Hermann like, a couple of days before he goes on a date, that's fuckin' shitty even for me."

Newt swears he can hear Tendo's eyebrow raising across landmass and ocean.

"A date, huh?"

"Not with me, with some guy he knew in Cambridge a long time ago."

"I can feel the jealousy, brother." 

"Shut up, Tendo."

They talk a little longer about Tendo's new role as Breach Monitor, how Marshal Hansen's doing and if Newt's students have suffered any injuries yet. (The answer is "not yet" and Newt's keeping it that way, thank you Tendo you absolute ass.)

Tendo's yawning a lot towards the end, and Newt forces him to "go the fuck to bed, dude, it's 1AM where you are."

They disconnect the call, and Newt's feeling...not entirely like normal, but closer than he was.

He's still not going to bring up any of these memories with Hermann. Maybe after his date.

The concept of Hermann dating someone is making his heart feel like it's in freefall.

...Fuck.

_-_-_

Hermann had forgotten what a romantic relationship could entail. Too long locked up in workspaces with just numbers and Newt may have rendered his expectations for human interaction a little bit skewed towards irritation, bickering and exasperation, conjoined with a heightened sense of possible impending danger. (Newt called it his science-sense. He preferred Newt-sense because it usually was his unruly lab partner's fault they ended up in the chemical showers so bloody often.)

The last three days had reminded him that there are more people in his life than insane overachieving biologists and slightly overprotective sisters, who for some reason want to spend time with him.

Hermann estimated that a good eighty-five percent of his relationships never ventured beyond professional acquaintance, even during his band days. He could count how many friends he had on two hands and close friends on only one.

On one finger, if family is excluded from that last list.

Elliot was a new, unknown factor that he really wanted to investigate further. Originally, he'd have placed the man in the set of friends, but now he was somewhere in that, included in a subset...A friend, of which he is prospectively romantically involved with. Not quite a close friend yet, but give it time. For now, Elliot would be in a single member subset of friends.

Though it is two days until their official first date, Hermann's noticed (calculated specifically) they have spent a minimum of forty-five minutes together per day over the last three days, including the current one - Friday. They had already spent lunchtime together out in one of the parks around the university, but it seems Elliot is determined to spend more than forty-five minutes in his company today.

Which is where Hermann finds himself, sat on the sofa in his office with the historian leaning on one side of the mathematician's desk, quietly looking at the few photos Hermann has printed out and hung up from the PPDC days - one of Alexis and Sasha Kaidanovsky, Cherno Alpha in the background. Another showing Stacker Pentacost, Hercules Hansen and Tendo Choi in Sydney's LOCCENT, wedding bands evident. The third is of Raleigh and Mako, grinning and pointing at Newton's tattoo of Gipsy Danger fighting Otachi across his back.

The final one was taken in the lab. After the two remaining members of Kaiju Science got hammered on that bottle of Jack Daniels he'd "liberated" from the scrabbled together party supplies, Newt had insisted they take a "victory selfie, dude!" So they did.

Both Hermann and Newt are dishevelled, drunk and exhausted in the picture, but definitely happy. Newt's arm is thrown around Hermann's neck, Hermann's giving Newt bunny ears, there's tissue still jammed in Newt's nose and both still have red ringed irises from the neural overload. 

It's Hermann's favourite picture of himself, aside from one at his sister's wedding. Vanessa had dragged him into dancing in celebration of becoming official siblings. Bastien managed to capture a shot of them just as they'd bumped hips, the pair grinning euphorically and a little bit tipsily.

Neither of K-Science's bloodshot eyes fully healed - Hermann still has a faint red ring, whereas Newt has a light reddish stain across the lower half of his left eye.

Hermann must have stopped paying attention, because suddenly Elliot was rather close. Sat next to him on the sofa, in fact. Elliot's hand is on his, stroking lazy imprecise circles over the palm. He's rather very close. A few more inches and they'd be pressing their bodies against each other. How do people deal with this level of contact again? He could deal with it with Vanessa, it was necessary during their school days and merely normal these days. Newt was no issue after numerous chemical shower adventures. He'd got bloody practised at dragging the idiot into decontamination or the medical bay, buggered hip be damned.

He should probably say something, Elliot's staring.

"Um."

_All hail Hermann Gottlieb, he who has a vast vocabulary in three different languages yet loses the ability to talk to humans in person frequently._

Elliot raises an eyebrow. "You've said nothing in the last few minutes and 'Um' is all you can come up with? I'd say I'm disappointed, except I'm really not. I'd even go as far to say I find it incredibly endearing. Hermann Gottlieb, who usually has words aplenty, struck speechless by, well. I'm hoping by me."

Hermann nods, he really doesn't think he's capable of communication beyond 'Um'. Maybe 'Er' at a stretch. What he wouldn't give for Newton's ability to word vomit right now.

A beep sounds out from Hermann's phone, sparing him from more failed attempts at communicating. He scrambles in his pocket for the blessed device, noticing it's a text from Newt. Think of the Drift Partner and he shall interfere...

_duuude im heading home u comin with?_

It's 6:30PM. Well, that's later than he thought it was. That means he has spent seventy-five minutes with Elliot today, and counting. This might be considered significant.

"Looks like Dr Geiszler is planning on returning home. I, er, should go back with him."

Hermann taps out _Yes. I'll meet you at the car._ and hits send before putting his phone away again. Elliot's smiling at him, oh god. That smile does things to Hermann's insides, making them twist more than post-Drift effects.

On a wild impulse (probably from that little bit of Newt still in his head), Hermann blurts out "Do you n-need a lift back to your home?"

Elliot shakes his head, smiling. "I live in town, only a short walk away. Thank you for the offer though."

The historian gets up from the sofa and gently pulls Hermann up from his seat, chuckling quietly when he sees Hermann's blush.

"I will however, return it with an offer of my own - may I walk you to your destination?"

"Um. Y-yes, you er, of course. If it's not too much trouble?"

"Of course not, Hermann." 

They walk to the staff car park, lightly holding hands - a gesture Hermann initiates (much to his surprise) and Elliot gleefully reciprocates. Newt's sat on the hood of their car, cross legged and frantically typing on a precariously balanced tablet. His glasses keep sliding off his nose, and he doesn't notice their approach until Hermann's using his cane to prod the younger man.

"Oh, finally! Hey Hermann, hey Hermann's...friend?" He trails off slightly, noticing the pair are holding hands. The little biologist slides off the car hood and looks expectantly at the two.

"Er...Elliot, this is Dr Newton Geiszler. Newton, this is Dr Elliot Matthews."

"Nah man, call me Newt." he grins at Elliot. Hermann doesn't know if he's irritated by this normal reaction or bizarrely attracted, either way he's very conflicted over whether letting these two meet was a good idea or not.

Elliot, to his credit, holds out his hand to Newt, who shakes it rather eagerly. "Call me Elliot then, Newt. Good to meet you, I've heard a lot about you." 

"If most of it was from Hermann, he's biased against me."

"Considering the amount of times Kaiju Blue ended up on my side of our workspace, can you really blame me?"

"It didn't take out anything important! I mean, we didn't _die_ and that's the important bit, right?"

"How can you have six doctorates and be so blasé about workplace safety?!"

"Dude, are you still bitter about that time I accidentally melted your ladder with Blue?"

"I was on the ladder, I think I'm allowed."

"Details, Hermann. I got you down without you getting contaminated."

"God forbid you ever had the sense to contain your detestable samples."

"See Elliot, needlessly biased!" Newt proclaims, gesturing wildly.

Hermann huffs and rolls his eyes skyward, before glancing at his...single occupant of the subset of friends. Who's openly smirking? Oh Lord, Newton always brings out the worst in him in front of anyone. Hermann starts inwardly preparing to be let down on the whole date thing, which is not important now he thinks about it a little more. I mean, it's a pointless activity and the time could be better spent. On...something, he's sure.

Elliot's staring at him again, and Newton's vanished into the car. Fuck.

Hermann can feel the blush creeping up his neck and blooming across his cheeks. Elliot's smirk has somehow grown wider, his eyes roving Hermann's face. It might be a trick of the light, but it seems like the historian's face is getting closer.

All he can think is that the last time he kissed someone, it was over nine years ago and it was sloppy. Drunk and sloppy. As Elliot's lips touch his own, he notes the massive difference in the last kiss he had. For a start, there was no alcohol involved. Elliot's lips are rather soft, a gentle pressure on his own - as opposed to the sloppy heated mess of the previous one all those years ago. He realised he should probably respond in kind or something, but the contact had already ended, Elliot moving to kiss him on the cheek briefly before murmuring goodbye.

Which Hermann _thinks_ he replied back to, but isn't actually sure. In fact, he's not sure of a lot of things - his ability to breathe, if time stopped or is merely running a lot slower than normal, whether blinking is something he's capable of as he watches the person who just kissed him walk briskly across the gravel car park and climb over a low wall, disappearing over the other side.

It's not until Newt actually drags him into the car that Hermann realises a few things.

Logically, if Elliot was going to abandon their date after witnessing his usual interactions with Newt, there would have been no kiss.

He's also horrifically out of practice on kissing.

But the idea of practising with Elliot is highly appealing.

Hermann can't stop smiling for the rest of the day. Sunday could not arrive fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon of Hermann Gottlieb using set theory to define his relationships is now out there. You're welcome. :>
> 
> Also yes, I slipped in my new OT3 - Stacker/Herc/Tendo. NOT SORRY, DEAL WITH IT.
> 
> I gave Hermann the birth name Luise for two reasons - one, it's a German feminine variant of Louis, meaning "renowned warrior". Two: I didn't want to use the feminine version of Hermann, Hermine. I thought that Herms would want to put some distance between birth and chosen names. So there you go.


	4. Hurry, Hurry, My Head Is Such a Flurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's date goes...interestingly. Newt uses the time alone to try and sort through more memory mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently regaining a home internet connection means I lose a lot of time to everything else. Sooo, this is like a week later than I intended.
> 
> Content Warning for transphobic & homophobic comments, and some minor violence.

Sunday dawned bright and clear. Hermann would know, he was awake beforehand - standing outside the kitchen door, tea in hand and watching the sunrise.

Shame he was only greeting it due to nerves. It was half five in the morning, Hermann had only got a mere four hours sleep. Newt insisted they watch "just one more, dude" (it was another two or three) episode of Hannibal before they eventually went to sleep.

He had to admit, the series was somewhat compellingly addictive, but really. Now he was ill-rested, awake three hours earlier than he intended with eight and a half hours to go until his...his date.

Hermann feels like throwing up.

The morning passes in a haze of fear, impending awkwardness and innumerable outfit changes ordered by Newton, who was doing his damnedest to ensure he did not "leave the house looking like a frazzled grandpa."

Hermann may have thrown a shoe at Newt's head for that one, while yelling "You're not exactly helping!" He isn't sure, he thinks he puked due to anxiety shortly afterwards...the entire morning is unclear.

Lunchtime arrives and Hermann leaves the house in semi-tight jeans, a dark red shirt and a grey waistcoat. ("one hundred and ten percent approved!" Newt had declared. The usual retort of more than one hundred percent being mathematical bollocks in these cases died in another fit of nerves.)

Thankfully, Hermann manages to drive to the center of Cambridge without any accidents. Parking up and getting to the pub were also easy - the walk from the town centre was short, and his hip wasn't flaring up in pain for once.

The Devonshire Arms was tucked away behind a street of independent shops and Asian supermarkets. The heady smells of spice and fragrant rice hovered just outside the doorways of the food stores Hermann wandered past. He found himself missing Hong Kong - despite being stuck in a Shatterdome for most of the five years he was there, the times he went out into the city were memorable (especially the few times he went out with the Kaidanovskys, bloody _hell_ ).

He walked into the pub cautiously, hoping that he wasn't too early. Or late. Or that Elliot wasn't going to stand him up-ah wait, there he is.

His date had decided to let his hair down, quite literally. Now out of its customary low pony tail, it flowed everywhere - reaching down to his hips, fanning out across his back and falling off his shoulders into a curtain. His face is partially obscured by hair and a book, a barely-touched pint of something or other on the small table in front of him. 

Elliot jerked up on hearing the door close, smiling widely when he sees who it is. Hermann feels his face heat up at the attention, swallows down the nerves that threaten to build, and makes his way to his date.

"Afternoon, Hermann." Elliot places a bookmark in his reading material before stashing it away in his jacket, currently slung over the back of his seat.

"Er, yes, afternoon Elliot." _Bollocks._

Elliot's smile grew wider, somehow. "Lacking eloquence again! I'm doing something right."

The historian's up and out of his chair, pulling out the opposing seat for Hermann who raises an eyebrow. "Really, Elliot?"

"Just attempting to be polite." He flashes Hermann with that endearing smile of his - and the mathematician lets it go, for now. The double punch feeling of being patronised and the discomfort at a gesture usually reserved for men dating women are suppressible, and he's pretty sure it's unintentional on Elliot's part. He hopes.

If it happens again...he'll bring it up. Determined not to let such thoughts ruin his first date in god knows when, Hermann sits and turns to look at the huge chalkboard hanging above the bar. Various obscure sounding beers & ciders attract his attention, eventually settling on an imported German craft beer he'd had once before at Karla and Vanessa's place in London. Just the one, of course. He had to drive back after all.

The pair make small talk over the book Elliot was reading when Hermann came in, before ordering some food to go with the beer. This pub, fiercely independent little place that it was, took pride in serving not usual gastropub fare but instead made unusual pizzas on site. They shared one such pizza - a spinach, pepper and bacon combination, while continuing to talk about their respective personal libraries.

Despite the little hiccup at the beginning, their date goes...rather smoothly. Elliot slips in compliments every now and then which make Hermann's ears go red at the tips and even break off mid-sentence, which the other man finds incredibly hilarious. 

The time passed quickly, until it was really time for Hermann to be getting back home. Elliot insisted on walking Hermann to the carpark - "It's on my way back, there's really no reason for me not to, dear." The endearment made Hermann's half-hearted objections die away.

So they strolled together, hand in hand and laughing over some shared memories. When they got to Hermann's vehicle, Hermann couldn't help but fiddle nervously with his cane while he tried to figure out what to say or do - how does one kiss someone? Do you go ahead and do it? Elliot could, but Elliot's a different creature with the ability to do such things... _This is far too difficult, really._

Elliot took the decision out of his hands entirely, choosing to tilt up Hermann's chin and pull him into a chaste kiss. 

To his own surprise, Hermann threw his arms around Elliot's neck and reciprocated rather firmly, eliciting a small noise of approval. Hermann felt his date's hands wrap around his waist, one hand drifting up his back. Elliot, keeping a firm grip on the mathematician, leaned forward and opened the kiss, gently probing Hermann's mouth with his tongue. Hermann's fingers were getting entangled in Elliot's hair, making the historian involuntarily press himself against Hermann.

What felt like hours later - though must have only been a minute or two at the very most - they broke apart, panting slightly. Elliot grinned, gently pressing his forehead against Hermann's, while Hermann smiled wide. _I could definitely stand to do_ that _some more._

So he did.

_-_-_

Once Hermann was out the door and gone, Newt started on his grand scheme to turn the living room into a temporary meditation area. Which meant pulling the curtains closed and making a nest out of his duvet and pillows on the floor, but the grand scheme bit sounded good.

Soft electronica flowed through the little speaker set in front of him, washing him in familiar notes and bringing an outside noise source to focus on - pulling his conciousness free from the mess of barely restrained memories of two people. With a shaky exhalation, Newt brought up the memory that had been plaguing him in snatches overnight. Hermann must be about twenty one, the other guy about the same age. Post-concert thrill accompanied the jarring sensation of being referred to as a "so far gone dyke she went bloke."

Fuck, he could feel the pain all down his hand from punching the twat in the jaw. 

Then the terror of being questioned over the incident by venue officials. The absolute self-loathing over being unable to restrain himself like he used to, like he's back to being fifteen and fucking furious at the world. The repeated desire never to lose his temper over such shit again.

Newt jerked back from the memory, gripping back onto the music he left running. It's not so scary, having a known way to get back from Hermann's memories. Unsettling, still need to give Hermann one hell of a hug, but not...as terrifying as the first two incidents, when totally unprepared for the alien sensations and thoughts to invade.

He gathers his knees to his chest and wraps the duvet around him like a cocoon. Comfort is what he needs after that trip down fucked up memory lane, so he huddles up and enjoys the warm softness of muted spring sunshine. Another memory floats to the forefront of his mind. It's newer, it's in the Shatterdome lab. Newt's pretty sure it's the day he discovered that badly-preserved Kaiju parts have a tendency to explode. Also the first time Hermann was in the lab when a biohazard incident occurred.

The first time he saw Hermann's surgical scars, too.

But this time he was seeing it from Hermann's perspective - the slimy blast jolting him from needle-sharp focus, feeling the splat of Kaiju lung pieces hit his back and nearly falling off the ladder in his haste to get down. A heady mix of indignation and fear driving him forward and they both dragged each other to the chemical shower, arguing loudly over the lack of a blast shield in the lab. The shock of the cold water silencing them for a few seconds before they rapidly divested themselves of clothing. 

Both men stood under the water in merely their underwear, shivering and in the case of Newt, swearing over the cleanup crew's inability to properly care for his samples. Newt feels Hermann's fear reaching fever pitch - Hermann's gender had come up in conversation only once before this trip to the chemical showers, when their medication packages got switched by accident (expecting the usual cocktail of mood stabilisers and instead getting testosterone, anti-depressants and high-grade painkillers...well, that's one hell of a conversation starter.)

"Dude, you okay? Nothing burnt through your clothes, right? Shit, with the amount of layers you wear you're probably fine. Turn around, let me check." He felt Hermann's muscles locking up in panic, arms firmly folded over the chest scarring. No way to cover the surgery scars on his leg though, which webbed across his thigh and hip.

"Dr Geiszler, I am fine. Absolutely bloody freezing, but fine." Newt could feel Hermann's overwhelming desire to flee, the hope that Newton would not run his mouth off again and stumble into territory which could cause Hermann to lose his temper. 

Newt's really glad he was too pissed about the exploded lung to ask Hermann any potentially stupid questions at the time. 

Afterwards, when they were relatively dry and clothed, Newt vaguely remembered Hermann saying thank you, but assumed it was for the whole mutually ensuring they got into the shower thing. Now he knew what Hermann meant. Hermann was thanking him for not asking anything, for treating him like a normal person.

The biologist mentally dragged himself back to the cottage living room, enveloped in his duvet cocoon while some complicated dubstep drop flooded out of the speakers near his head. When did he go sideways? Oh well, it's comfortable.

He drifted off into a comfortable doze, until a few hours later when what could only be a cane prodded his side through the duvet.

"Newton, what on earth are you doing down here?"

Newt stretched and pulled himself up into a sitting position, fumbling for his glasses. "Hello to you too, Herms. How'd your date go?"

Hermann stuttered something about gentlemen not kissing and telling - "So there was kissing, eh?"

"Shut up, Newton." Hermann's ears were bright red, a reaction which made Newt cackle with joy. Embarrassing his friendcrush over his date, or multiple dates, would have to do as an acceptable activity - now he could manage the memory influx he didn't need to bother Hermann, right? Well, beyond entertaining bothering, because the way his housemate blushed was _adorable_.

As soon as he puts on his glasses and looks up, all Newt can see is Hermann's slightly swollen lips and more out of place than usual hair. The pang of jealousy that ran through his stomach was...not great. 

Newt's traitorous mind wonders if it's morally acceptable to hope that Elliot turns out to be a shit person.


	5. It's The Greatest Thing That's Yet To Have Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Elliot's relationship is progressing nicely, Newt gets a peculiar job offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? I got enthusiastic.
> 
> Enjoy some more of Hermann's inner monologue while making out.

Hermann's had a few euphoric moments in his life. When he recovered from chest surgery was one. Finding out Newt didn't die during the double event was another. The completion of Operation Pitfall was also fairly significant.

He wasn't sure where dating Elliot ranked, but it was pretty high on the euphoria. One day he'd calculate it, but he was frequently distracted from his beloved numbers to talk or kiss these days. Honestly, he didn't mind that much. They were still there when he was less occupied, and the occupation of making out like teenagers in their respective offices (with locked doors, thank god no student or staff member has stumbled in yet) was a highly attractive activity.

Elliot had definitely moved to a specific new set. Subset, even. In the friends set there was a subset labled boyfriend, of which Elliot was the sole member. Sure, there were still times Hermann thought about Newton occupying that particular set instead of Elliot (and sometimes simultaneously. Polyamory intrigued him, despite the bastardisation of Greek and Latin to make the word) but they were few and far between.

He should probably refocus on the gentleman in between his legs, practically ravaging Hermann on his own desk! Never had he been so put out and turned on at the same time (except when arguing with Newt. But that's not what he should be thinking about right now, there's an Elliot attached to him!)

There are hands all over his back, holding him steady. Lips pressed to his own, Elliot's hips locked in place by Hermann's good leg. They could waste away a whole day like this. Shame it's a work day. But come the weekend, they'll be wrapped up in each other on a sofa or bed somewhere, making out as much as possible.

It's been three weeks and every week, no, every day, hour, minute, second with Elliot's been a learning experience. Learning how to kiss again, how fun it is to guide someone by their hair, the delightful feeling of being held in deceptively strong arms...

If numbers were the handwriting of God, then these activities with Elliot must be the music of Heaven. He'd write symphonic metal using numbers and exact tones of Elliot's gasps, counterpointed with his own groans of pleasure.

This was a fantastic way to spend a lunch break.

So _why_ was Newton Geiszler invading his thoughts so regularly?

_-_-_

There are a few things about Operation Pitfall he won't forget. Drifting into the Kaiju hivemind solo and with Hermann's one of them. The close encounter with Otachi's another. Getting a freaking balisong rammed up his fucking nose by a crime lord who also got eaten by an infant kaiju and somehow survived?! 

Yeah. Hannibal Chau left one hell of an impression.

And today, a voicemail.

_Hey Doc. Heard you've finished with the PPDC now, and you're in England now? Anyway, my supplies are dwindling, we're trying a cloning process but it's not, eh, my boys say it's more than they can handle - they're scavengers rather than scientists. Point is, you're the foremost expert on Kaiju and I need Kaiju parts. Call me back when you can, kid._

On the one hand - cloning Kaiju parts? That's pretty sweet. On the other hand, working for the guy who sent him to the public shelter during the double event? And hello, knife up the nose?! He might still be a bit bitter about the nose thing. It hurt like fuck though!

Newt stares at his phone, Hannibal's number staring right back at him. He should really return the call, if just so Tendo would stop complaining about getting visits from Chau asking after Newt.

Apparently having a crime lord regularly visiting the Shatterdome's unsettling. Who knew?

A quick timezone calculation later (lunchtime in England is late evening in Hong Kong, that's a pretty sensible time to call right? Do crime bosses keep regular working hours, like 9 to 5? He'll have to ask someday. Maybe now? Chau can't stab his nose through the phone, right?) and he pressed call.

"Hey kid, you thought about my offer?"

"Yeah, I have. Thought a lot about it. Hi, by the way. Anyway, you're trying to clone Kaiju parts? Damn man, that is pretty cool."

"I figured that cloning a whole Kaiju might be less business-savvy. Anyway kid, my boys are struggling to crack it even with some of the data we're getting out of the PPDC. Thought having your help would be best."

Newt wasn't sure if he was flattered or what. "Well. Uh. What's in it for me, aside from getting access to some Kaiju parts? And making more? Or at least trying. It should be doable, I mean, I should be able to do it. Not right now, I'm still in the middle of a semester of teaching but summer is coming up. I can spare like, a couple of months to come back to Hong Kong and do this sweet science project."

Hannibal chuckled. "I'll pay you for your time, and you can have a percentage of the profits. Call it royalties for your efforts."

Newt nods frantically, before remembering it's audio only and Chau won't be able to see him nodding. "Dude, sure. I'm game. Um, I'll send along the exact semester end date when I find it and I'll probably be in Hong Kong like a week after then? Ah shit, uh, I guess I need to find somewhere to live for a bit, wonder if the Shatterdome's still got a room free for me..."

"Doc, you can stay with me. I could do with the company."

Okay, now Newt's flattered and terrified. "I'll uh, I'll keep that offer in mind, but I'll check with Tendo first if I can stay in the Shatterdome. Might be some stuff in the lab to help with this cloning idea."

"Well, you just let me know either way. Bye kid."

The call cut off, leaving Newt staring at his phone in confused wonder. What the hell has he gotten himself into...?

Then again, Kaiju cloning? A chance to get the hell away from the cloying crap that is watching Hermann and Elliot being all lovey-dovey all over the sofa, freaking taunting him almost with what he can't have?

He'll fucking take it. He's got what, a couple of weeks left of the teaching period, he can mark exams remotely, it's easy to supervise the few masters students doing their dissertations from Hong Kong, he's got no other research students to help...he could do this.

Satisfied he can pull this off, Newt opens the contacts list again and scrolls down to Tendo's entry, hitting the call button as soon as he can find it.

Three rings and Newt's greeted with a "Evening, brother. You finally got back to Hannibal Chau? Cause I'm fed up with him visiting twice a week and Herc's even more pissed about it than me."

"Yeah yeah. I talked to him. I'm taking the job and I need a place to stay for the summer."

Tendo sighs. "We got barely enough resources to ensure the monitor team is kept up, you can't really stay here."

Dammit.

"Looks like I'm staying with Hannibal then. Fun times. Please check up on me regularly and make sure I'm not, like, dead or something, okay? Send your scary husband to threaten to mess up Hannibal if I go missing?"

Newt can hear Tendo laughing. "I am not sending my husband against my ex-boss, thank you very much. Anyway, Herc's already had words with Hannibal. You're protected, Newt. And I think Hannibal _likes_ you, believe it or not."

Now that's just weird. And Newt tells him so.

"Yeah well, brother, it might just keep you alive."

"True, dude. See you in a month?"

"Sure thing. Visit when you can, yeah?"

"Night Tendo."

"Bye Newt."

Well. That qualifies as the weirder phone call. Chau likes him? What fresh hell is this?

It's a better thought than all the intruding ones about Hermann. And hell, who knows, maybe being away from his Drift partner will calm down the memory influx some more. Worth a try.

Newt grinned to himself. New research? Working for one of the main crime lords of Hong Kong? Getting to see Tendo again?

He could deal with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal Chau ahoy!
> 
> I wasn't going to include him but somehow he just...got involved. I blame the amount of Newtibal fics I've read lately. So that's a hell of a hint to what might be happening in the next few chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Domino Cottage is based off a friend's mum's house in Cambridge, I stayed there a couple of years ago.
> 
> Bottisham is also a real village near Cambridge, which I have had the dubious honour of getting lost in.
> 
> I was going to throw our beloved science husbands to MIT, but I don't feel entirely comfortable writing about real places I don't know much of. So when I have time to research MIT and Boston, maybe I'll set something there.
> 
> ...If you hadn't picked up already, I'm a UK resident born and bred.


End file.
